


Boy Sweat

by kitcassiachan



Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Feelings Realization, First Crush, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, what are these feelings? hate definitely hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/pseuds/kitcassiachan
Summary: The whole point of their relationship is that they don’t get along.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Series: seen: a haikyuu collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711519
Comments: 57
Kudos: 470





	Boy Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> previously titled, "Moon God, Sun God" -- I had a change of heart. :)
> 
> This fic is entirely, absolutely, totally the fault of one talented artist who inspired me to write about this pairing and that is the lovely [Manu](https://twitter.com/stiirped), whose [work](https://twitter.com/stiirped/status/1251789281271611393) [made](https://twitter.com/stiirped/status/1251797987921145857) [me](https://twitter.com/stiirped/status/1251806741492314114) [love](https://twitter.com/stiirped/status/1252143189621977089) [this ship](https://twitter.com/stiirped/status/1251738552293101569).

**BOY SWEAT**

**THE WHOLE POINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS THAT THEY DON’T GET ALONG.** They’re opposites. Kuroo, who’s tall, dark and handsome, and little Yaku, short and pale, with freckled skin and blond curls that make him look five years younger. Kuroo, who’s amazing at everything—spiking, blocking, digging, leading— and Yaku, whose sole purpose is receiving. Kuroo, the obvious choice for captain, who jokes with the underclassmen, and Yaku, who they fear. That’s the agreed-upon dynamic and third year is far too late to change. It works, at least on the court. Kuroo and Yaku are teammates above all else.

* * *

Chief among their differences is Kuroo’s tendency to fall in love all the time and easily. Kenma, their first year when Kuroo and Yaku are _not_ friends, communicating solely through glares, much to the dismay of their upperclassmen.

Kuroo decides on a windy, winter day that he ‘probably loves’ his best friend and Yaku happens to be the only one around because they’re stuck cleaning up the gym as punishment for getting into another fight. So Kuroo rants to him because he can’t rant to Kenma, and has a hard time making friends, despite being funny, charming and six feet tall. Yaku listens because he’s stuck mopping up the floor and Kuroo talks very loudly. 

It establishes a pattern that whenever Kuroo’s heartbroken, he comes to Yaku first, and because Kuroo’s always heartbroken, he spends a lot of time on Yaku’s bed, making everything smell like him. Yaku’s cold about it, of course, all jabs and sarcasm, because doing otherwise might set a precedent. Privately, he accepts falling asleep with thoughts of Kuroo and his boy sweat.

* * *

Kenma joins the team, a silent but dominating presence in Kuroo and Yaku’s shaky-legged relationship, stomping out what embers might have stirred when Kuroo had offered a silent truce and Yaku found himself with something to look forward to. 

Kuroo’s struggling with his feelings and overcompensates by forcing everyone to orbit around Kenma like it’ll make it any less obvious that half of Kuroo’s sentences start with Kenma this, Kenma that. Yaku can’t stand it but the team trusts Kuroo and under his leadership, improves. Truthfully, Kenma’s a good setter, observant and so unproblematic that that in itself is grating, how difficult it is to dislike someone who does nothing. Yaku wonders what Kuroo sees in him because he always struck Yaku as someone who sparked with friction. Kenma puts up with Kuroo and not in the way Yaku pretends to. 

“Yaku, Kenma’s replacing you as Kuroo’s favorite. I’d step up my negging,” Kai teases. 

“Nah, he should try being nice for once,” Yamamoto says, “If he wasn’t on Kuroo’s ass all the time.”

“I’ll be on your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Yaku snaps. 

“It’s alright,” Kuroo interjects, leaning over the back of his bus seat to beam. “Someone has to be.”

Pre-Kenma, Yaku would sit with him because when he refused Kuroo would place himself in the seat behind and bother Yaku the entire trip. Post-Kenma, Kuroo’s too lost in Kenma slouching on his arm. Yaku didn’t think he’d miss the hair ruffles, the shoulder rubs—things Yaku never realized he used to be the sole receiver of until he saw them happening to someone else.

Competing with Kenma is impossible so Yaku drifts to the side where he belongs, watching Kuroo’s back as he watches others.

* * *

Bokuto’s his second big crush and Kuroo thinks for a long time that it will work out, despite the team, Kenma and more aggressively than the others, Yaku, telling him Bokuto likes girls— a sad default that never deters Kuroo as much as it affects Yaku, who’s so deep in the closet he’s hiding from himself. It should be a point of connection, their mutual gayness, turning instead into another battle of ideals because Kuroo’s open about his preferences, while Yaku equates coming out in high school with blows to a self-esteem he barely masks not having. 

Kuroo’s all about ‘Bo’ so Nekoma plays Fukurodani in practice matches every other weekend and for several games back to back. They’re good, sometimes better. Yaku makes it his mission to stop every one of Bokuto’s spikes but Kuroo gets in the way with his blocks and one-touches, his stupid smirk and shameless flirting. He latches onto Bokuto and Akaashi’s friendship, leaving Yaku to hold Nekoma together, alone. 

Yaku finds himself wishing Kuroo would make a move and get rejected so things (between them) can get back to normal and they can goad each other into watching horror flicks they both hate, Kuroo’s legs draped on Yaku’s lap, his toes tickling Yaku’s sides when Yaku yelps with the jumpscares. These weird, unspoken moments, where the screaming on the screen covers up the fact that the two of them always end wrapped up in blankets and each other, and Yaku can’t help wanting to see the movie in the reflection of Kuroo’s eyes. 

Yaku finds himself wishing Bokuto’s a real asswipe about it, knowing it’s not in Bokuto’s personality and that damaging Nekoma’s relationship with Fukurodani will hurt the team in the long run. But if Bokuto breaks Kuroo’s heart, Yaku will have a reason to hate him and Kuroo will need someone to rely on—Yaku could be that person.

* * *

Bokuto and Kuroo hook up at training camp in a game of Truth or Dare, where Kuroo’s pressured to admit his crush. A game that’s stupid and childish and Yaku should have never agreed to. But Kuroo had begged and bullied, whined about Yaku being the uncool upperclassman, so Yaku said yes and feels justified in resenting Kuroo for forcing him to watch as Kuroo slides his sharp tongue past another boy’s lips. 

It’s a joke, their kiss, barely the real thing, barely anything, embarrassing to watch with spitty sounds that churn Yaku’s stomach and ravage his heart.

Bokuto fans his face afterwards. “I’m sold.”

“Maybe I should go next,” Konoha quips, “Kuroo can decide who’s better.”

“I have zero problems with that,” Kuroo laughs. 

Yaku doesn’t understand how someone as proud as him could degrade himself like a circus monkey for straight boys to hoot at, taking something intimate that he deserves without jokes, and twisting it into a performance.

Kuroo’s third first kiss is around the time Yaku stands to leave, ignoring the hollers that follow him. Kuroo pouts but doesn’t stop him and Yaku can’t figure out if that’s better or worse, but he’s mad that Kuroo stays and madder that he can’t fall asleep until he hears Kuroo shuffle back into his futon, probably having kissed his way down the starting lineup. 

* * *

Bokuto’s indeed straight and the rejection happens shortly after but Kuroo doesn’t come to Yaku and Yaku fumes about it to the juniors until Kuroo confronts him in the locker room. “Are we ok?” 

“We’re the same as we’ve always been,” Yaku mutters because it’s true and they are. Nothing will change that—not even the fact that details of that night—Kuroo’s whimpers and the way he fists his strong hands to hold back from wanting—threaten to unknot all emotion Yaku has worked hard to repress. 

“We’re not even the same two minutes apart,” Kuroo chuckles. “I never know where I stand with you.”

“You stand to lose what little of my respect you have.”

It’s harsh, Yaku knows. Kuroo laughs, on instinct, to cover up the awkwardness but he’s hurting big. Yaku’s reminded it’s not his job to give a shit, never has been, even when Kuroo made it such, gave Yaku temporary importance only to snatch it away every time someone better came along. Yaku’s sick of being a backup, libero on the field and off, there when needed, ready to be subbed the minute it’s his turn to move to the front. 

* * *

It shouldn’t affect how they play but it does and Yaku can’t blame Kuroo for being an emotional player (which he is) because Yaku’s flubbing equally bad, distracted, too afraid of chasing balls that might lead him to Kuroo when it’s Kuroo stepping on _his_ toes receiving them. 

“He thinks you’re uncomfortable around him because he’s gay,” Kenma clarifies to Yaku’s mortification. “I know that’s not the case. Clearly. But it would help if you told him yourself, because he values your opinion the most out and is quite depressed about it. We’ll probably keep losing unless you two make up.”

They do.

* * *

Kuroo crushes on Daichi next, then Ushiwaka, then Oikawa, then Tsukishima, establishing a clear track record of what he goes for: tall, straight men with big frames and even bigger attitudes. 

It never works out but the lows are short and muted. Before Yaku has a chance to say _I told you so_ , Kuroo has moved on like he’s made a bet with himself to get at least one right before high school ends. 

He spends nights at Yaku’s house, the boy-talk nothing more than an off-hand remark, the password at the door. Kuroo will say, _why are all the good ones straight?_ And Yaku will roll his eyes and let him in.

* * *

“I wish we were better friends,” Kuroo whispers one night, crashing on Yaku’s floor in nothing but a blanket and a pillow. Terushima, this time. Yaku has lost track. 

He flips over on his bed to look at him. “Maybe we are.”

Kuroo’s eyes find his. “Are we, Yakkun?”

“Friends?” Yaku asks, unsure. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

Kuroo sits up and leans his forearms on Yaku’s mattress near his legs. Yaku’s first instinct is to kick him in the face; his leg twitches. When he looks at Kuroo, he knows Kuroo guessed what he was thinking because he’s smirking in challenge and they both start laughing. 

Kuroo climbs up on the bed, crawling on his hands and knees before plopping stomach-first. Yaku feels the heat of his body through the covers despite Kuroo being on top and Yaku underneath. With anyone else—and there’s been no one—he’d complain about space but Kuroo finds ways to fit around him just right, puzzle into his blunt words and sharp edges. 

“We could have been more,” Kuroo says, letting his chin rest against his forearms. 

He swings his sun-tan legs, casting shadows on the walls. The only light in the room the orange glow of the street lamps outside. His eyes are sleepy and the smile on his face, one he has no energy to fake.

Yaku shrugs. “We got it done.”

“I wasted so much time on others.” Kuroo sulks. "I fucked up so much." Yaku rolls his eyes at the drama. Kuroo’s smile gets softer at the sight. “It’s like you said," he says, "I shouldn’t chase after people who can’t see what I’m worth and can't love me how I should be loved.” 

“I—I didn’t say that,” Yaku stutters.

Kuroo’s voice lowers to a whisper, “You did.” One of his hands reaches for Yaku’s face. His thumb strokes Yaku’s eyebrow, smoothing out the frown lines. “You have so much anger in that little body of yours,” he muses, grinning.

Yaku slaps his hand away. “And you have less than half a brain-cell in that stupidly-shaped head of yours, you moron.”

Kuroo doesn’t banter back. His eyes lid slightly, reminding Yaku of how his black lashes flutter open when he kisses people, as if to make sure it’s really happening. What that must look like up close. What it must feel like, to kiss him. All this time Kuroo had been looking at others and now that he was looking at him, Yaku was terrified to be seen. 

Kuroo swallows. Yaku tracks the movement from his lips to the bob of his Adam's apple, the slope of his neck.

“You’re... not, right?” Kuroo says.

“Umm."

“Never mind.” Kuroo senses his reluctance. Though knowing him, them, their constant misunderstandings, who knows what Kuroo’s sensing.

Yaku could come out right here. He knows for sure he’s gay and Kuroo knows it too. If Yaku’s brave, something might happen—but what if he does confess and it doesn’t? It’s best to have something. Kuroo’s full of so much, even a part of him is enough.

“What’s done is done,” Kuroo laughs, lifting himself up. “Let’s make the best of what's left.” He throws Yaku a wink on his way to his bed. “Bestie.”

* * *

Yaku stays awake for hours. Kuroo’s curled up on the floor, facing away. The rise and fall of his shoulders suggest he’s asleep. It’s like him to point out a problem and depend on Yaku for a solution when Yaku could have gone the rest of the year maintaining their status quo. 

Kuroo stirs; the blanket slides off him. Yaku moves with the intention of covering him and finds himself compelled to stay, to lift the blanket and tuck himself behind the sleeping boy, always behind him. He wraps an arm around Kuroo's torso and pulls him flush against his chest like Kuroo has cuddled him many movie nights, joking he’d protect him. 

“Yaku?” Kuroo mumbles.

Yaku hugs him tighter, shoving his face between his shoulder blades and relishing in that smell reminiscent of long nights under covers and tight hugs after long games, the boy sweat. He has the distinct and painful feeling that this is one of those moments he’ll go back to many times. No matter where he goes, he’ll remember this, and the thought tears him up.

“I am,” he whispers.

#

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this little window into their lives, yaku and nekoma are severely underrated and deserve more screen-time. all comments and kudos deeply cherished and well taken care of.
> 
> this fic now has [beautiful art](https://twitter.com/fiorrette/status/1275142848896270337?s=21) thanks to the talented joey!
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/KitCassia).


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